The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 27: Sir?

Sherlock was completely bewildered… being dragged away…

He, who usually prided himself on his relatively sharp mind, was utterly lost in thought at this moment;

He was pulled by the hand and sprinted forward in what seemed to him clumsily.

The girl in front of him had golden hair, fine strands braided into simple plaits, swaying back and forth, some stray hairs blending into the dim sunlight.

She was clearly panicked, not even daring to look back, yet clutching tightly to a paper bag containing bread and other small items.

What was this girl… doing?

Logically, she must have seen Sherlock being followed, felt he was in danger, and come to help him… Sherlock could easily grasp that.

But what puzzled him was, why would this girl offer help to a complete stranger like him?

In this era, were there still such fools?

And wasn't the way she helped him a little too ridiculous? Who squats at the alley entrance pretending to be a sheriff? ...And her acting was so bad.

Finally... she was actually dragging him along! Running is fine, but didn't she think she could run faster if she threw away that bag of food? Why was she so stingy, holding it so tightly? The bread was practically flattened... All her actions exuded a ridiculous stupidity. Didn't she realize that nobody was following?

"Haha..." For some reason, Sherlock suddenly felt quite good and chuckled softly.

Luckily, the girl in front didn't hear him, or it would have been too rude.

After running for about five minutes, the girl was already out of breath. Suddenly, a group of people appeared around the corner. On a platform, several robed missionaries were loudly chanting the Holy Light's blessing upon the world, while below, some imperial citizens listened quietly with their hands clasped together and their eyes closed.

The girl quickly pulled Sherlock along, squeezing into the crowd: "Close your eyes! Close your eyes!"

She had already feigned a look of devout listening.

"Oh, okay," Sherlock said with a smile, but he didn't bother pretending to be a believer; after all, the other girl had her eyes closed and couldn't see.

And so, the two of them foolishly pretended for 20 minutes, until the sun had dipped slightly in the west, and the preaching ended…

Praise of the holy light, of course, could only be done under the sunlight; that was the most basic principle.

The believers gradually dispersed, and Sherlock nudged the girl beside him: "Everyone… is gone."

"Ah?!" The girl opened her eyes in alarm, seeing that the surroundings were empty, but thankfully, she didn't see the drunkards either, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Phew…" She glared angrily at Sherlock: "How could you be so careless? Those drunkards looked like very dangerous people. Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

It sounded a bit like he was scolding an ignorant student.

“Oh, I…” Sherlock didn’t know how to explain. He couldn’t very well say that he was the one in the most danger, so he pulled two apples, a pepper shaker, a brush, and a can of toothpaste from his coat pocket.

“This is…?”

“You dropped these when you were running. I caught them,” Sherlock said.

The girl’s face flushed, seemingly even angrier. She angrily snatched the items and threw them into a paper bag. “Honestly, remember to be careful next time you go out! Not everyone will help you!”

With that, she turned to leave.

“Um…can I know your name?” Sherlock thought for a moment and asked.

"Why do you need to know my name?"

"Well... thank you for saving me. If I'm going to church to pray for you, I'll have to tell the nuns my name, right?" The girl paused, seemingly lowering her guard after hearing the words 'church' and 'prayer': "Are you a devout believer?"

"...This..."

"Haha, sorry, it is indeed strange for a believer to say they are devout." She laughed. "My full name is Joan of Arc, Letitia Hudson; you can call me Mrs. Hudson; when you go to church, please pray for my wealth."

"Okay," Sherlock replied with a smile.

Actually, he didn't know why he needed to know her name, and he certainly wouldn't go to church to pray for her. Theoretically, the two of them would have no further contact.

However, it was clear that this girl named Joan of Arc liked money, and she was probably already married, since she specifically emphasized the suffix 'Mrs.'

Of course, it could also be to avoid harassment from men; this kind of talk was quite popular in the Upper Town.

After a few brief pleasantries, the two strangers quickly parted ways.

Joan of Arc disappeared around the street corner, near several pet supply stores; perhaps she owned pets.

Sherlock continued walking towards his apartment building.

…Fifteen minutes later, he stood beneath his building, looking at the entire collapsed wall:

“Very well, no need to dwell on it… This place is definitely uninhabitable.”

So he resolutely decided to move out!

Fortunately, the landlord seemed unaware that the street's devastation was due to Sherlock. Furthermore, the landlord himself was a follower of the Vatican, which led him to feel immense guilt towards his tenant, since it was the Vatican's arrest of a sinner that made it impossible for him to continue living there.

In the end, Sherlock unexpectedly received compensation and the red leather sofa he was so used to sitting on, and left the apartment after the landlord's repeated apologies.

Shortly after, before the sun had completely set, Sherlock arrived at a "Foreigners' Mutual Aid Association."

In short, it was a middleman.

They would help you find lodging, work, servants, a partner eager to get married, a beautifully dressed lady on the street, a carriage, and so on.

This was London, and there were countless out-of-towners, so these mutual aid associations were everywhere; even a small block like Baker Street had three.

But now, only one remained untouched.

Sherlock explained his needs to the staff, and five minutes later, he found his new place!

Because, there was only one place still available for rent, and it hadn't been completely destroyed!

[Baker Street—221—B].

He wasn't even given a chance to choose…

So, the people from the mutual aid association led Sherlock to that one and only destination.

It wasn't far from his previous apartment; he could even see it from a distance, and it was also on the second floor; the only difference was that the landlord lived on the first floor. He knocked on the first-floor door, but there was no answer. It seemed the landlord was out. However, the mutual aid association staff still led Sherlock upstairs and expertly found a key under a potted plant.

"Unless we haven't found a new place yet, the key is usually kept somewhere near the door. It's industry practice..." the staff member said with a smile, unlocking the door.

And gently pushed it open... The room slowly came into view.

"Sir, if you're satisfied, this is your new home."

The man wore a professional smile and gestured for Sherlock to enter;

Then... he looked at Sherlock, who stood in the doorway, utterly incredulous and dumbfounded.

"Sir?"

"Tenant, what's wrong?"

"Sir...????!"